


two ghosts

by suicxne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, harry's sad wanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicxne/pseuds/suicxne
Summary: we're not who used to be. we're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me. trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.a drabble documenting the events that inspired two ghosts.





	two ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> hello. this is a completely self indulgent little drabble that was too long for a tumblr post. fair warning there's mention of louis having a baby and also being in a relationship w eleanor so if that's not something you're interested in reading about maybe give this one a miss. pls don't take anything written here to seriously as it all based completely on angsty headcannon and has no real basis in reality. enjoy!!!!

_same lips red, same eyes blue, same white shirt couple more tattoos._

_Spain - 2010._

That’s something Harry remembers noticing first about Louis, his eyes. Blue, blue, blue. His golden skin and his blue eyes, a boy that looked like a holiday. How he was always warm to the touch like the sun shone from inside of him. How the summer sky and crystal blue ocean water had felt muted compared to the colour of his eyes. Spain was what had solidified it for Harry, getting through X-Factor judges houses feeling like a minor side project compared to winning Louis’ attention. He’d found himself feeling lost, practically aimless when Louis had been carted off to hospital after stepping on a sea urchin. Typical Louis behaviour. Bounding off into the sea, _look at me, look at me_ splashing around and waving his arms, “It’s not even cold! Stop being wimps and get in!”

So Harry did, of course he did. Following Louis right into the open ocean, not a second thought. He’d barely even noticed the sharp chill of the water, too preoccupied with how Louis had looked with his wet hair dripping and skin dimpling into goosebumps. He’d wanted to touch, drag his fingertips over Louis’ arms, his stomach, thighs. Didn’t know why, had never felt like that before. At least not about a boy, not ever.

Harry had been the first to run at Louis when the minder brought him back from A&E, his foot bandaged and limping. He’d run at him and wrapped his arms around him, lifting him up and he remembers a pang of jealously when the other boys had joined in to. They spent hours rehearsing, enough that Harry’s throat was almost sore. It had paid off and they were through to the live shows. It had scared Harry a little, how his first thought was _‘thank god I get to spend more time with Louis.’_

_X-Factor House - 2010._

He didn't remember how they’d ended up there, the two of them squashed into the top bunk of the boys room. They should have been asleep, it was the early hours of the morning and the rest of the house was still. Louis lay next to him under the duvet, artificial white light of his phone screen lighting up his features and Harry couldn’t help but stare.

Their legs were touching under the blankets and Harry had felt like he was burning. He tried to be still, to savour the touch but he’d always been greedy when it came to Louis. Always wanting more.

He couldn’t help but turn his body, only slightly but enough for their skin to press together, the both of them in just boxers. In a moment of rare bravery and riding on some kind of adrenaline high he’d swung an arm over Louis. Rested it over his waist. He’d heard his breath hitch, can still remember the sound even now. How he’d swallowed, like his throat was as dry as Harry’s had felt.

Louis hadn’t looked at him, kept scrolling through his phone as he was before. In that moment it had felt like Louis might never say anything ever again. And then he did. A whisper, not wanting to wake the other boys. “This is my friend Stan I was telling you about, he fell asleep and we all drew dicks on his face.”

He’d lifted his phone, bright light making Harry wince as he focused on the image of the sleeping boy with sharpie penises etched into his skin.

“Oh my god.” Harry’d giggled softly, “Amazing.”

And that was it. They’d stayed lying there, squashed together, Harry’s arm splayed over Louis’ bare torso. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t even there. Harry doesn’t remember when they fell asleep, just remembers waking up in the morning next to an empty space where he was expecting Louis to be.

 

_tastes so sweet, looks so real._

 

_London - 2012._

They’d been living together for months, although it had felt like so much less what with all the touring and appearances, they were barely ever home. But when they were, Harry didn’t think he’d ever want to be anywhere else.

He’d wake up first most days, spend the morning lounging around in front of the TV waiting for Louis to wake up. They’d cook breakfast together most of the time, Louis’d always want pancakes. Harry’d be trying to make a serious recipe and Louis would stand over him, throwing chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles into the pan, “It’s an experiment!”

The days where they had no plans would be the best. They’d spend hours on the Xbox, Louis would always win at FIFA but Harry didn’t mind because he liked the way Louis would get cocky, teasing Harry every time he lost.

They’d watch awful TV together, squashed up on the couch with bags of sweets from the Sainsbury’s down the road. Louis’d sprawl himself over Harry, like a cat, purring under his touch. They’d talk about everything and nothing in the advert breaks, catching up on the years of each other's lives that they’d missed out on.

In the evenings they’d make dinner together, never anything particularly fancy but enough that it had made Harry feel like they were a family. They’d eat at the table together, some nights Louis would buy them a bottle of wine and they’d sip it with their spaghetti, some Spotify playlist on shuffle in the background. Harry’d thought of them as date nights, never mentioned it to Louis.

He remembers the first night he’d kissed Louis. Doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. The day was nothing out of the ordinary, they’d both slept in until noon and it was the middle of winter, sun setting by five. Louis had taken a shower whilst Harry did the dishes, fingertips pruning from the water.

He’d changed into jogging bottoms and a soft cotton t-shirt, sprawling out on his bed, wrapped under a duvet for warmth. He’d been sipping a hot chocolate, cream sticking to his lips when the shower had shut off and Louis’ damp footprints had made their way into his room.

“I think the boilers gone again.” He’d announced, wrapped up in a dressing gown, rubbing his arms for warmth.

“You serious?” Harry’d asked, sighing. “That’s the second time this month.”

“I know. Shower was bloody freezing. Think I’ve got hypothermia. Me fingers are blue.”

Harry’d snorted, laughing at Louis’ dramatics. “I think you’ll live.”

“Don’t expect an invite to my funeral if I don’t.”

“Shut _up._ ” He giggled, pulling back the duvet and patting the mattress underneath it. “Get in here, s’nice and warm.”

He noticed the grin spread across Louis’ face and the way he’d try to play it like he was contemplating. It had taken seconds for the facade to drop and Louis to pad his way over, crawling under the covers and right into the crook of Harry’s arm. “Feel my nose.”

“What?” Harry laughed breathily.

“S’freezing. Feel it.”

Harry’d bit back a smile as best he could, reaching out with his finger and resting it on the tip of Louis’ nose. “That _is_ freezing.”

“Told you.” Louis smirked. He’d jolted his head, biting at Harry’s finger playfully.

Harry swatted him away, laughing and revelling in the way Louis’ side felt pressed against his under the duvet. “Want some hot chocolate?” Harry asked, reaching for the mug on the bedside table. “You can have the rest.”

“Harry Styles, you are too kind.” He’d taken the mug from Harry’s fingers, wrapping his own around them and placing his lips right where Harry’s used to be.

It had struck Harry, that moment. How the two of them were lying in bed together, sharing a drink, sharing a home. How it had felt so right. It had felt real in that moment, like something so much more than just two friends. And he hadn’t even felt ridiculous for feeling that way because in that moment he was almost sure that Louis felt it to.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at him, mouth obscured by the mug but eyes heavy and sparkling under the ceiling lamps shine. How he was pressed so close to him, knees knocking together and faces inches apart. His skin had smelt sugary sweet, scent of shower gel still fresh on his body and little droplets of water pooled where he hadn’t quite dried off yet. He remembers wanting to taste. Just like he had all those times before. He’d wanted to put his mouth all over Louis, soft and gentle at first. Tasting, tender. And then rougher, biting. Leaving deep purple bruises on his gold skin in the shape of Harry’s mouth.

He’d let out an involuntary whine, feeling himself turn a hot pink when he realised the sound was audible. Louis didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe he didn’t hear it. Harry thought he must have. He’d wriggled closer to Louis, not giving it a second thought. Body acting before his brain did. His head rested against Louis’ collarbone, could feel it protruding through the fabric of the dressing gown.

A hand came to rest in Harry’s hair and it almost made him jump. Louis fingers were so delicate, he stroked at Harry’s curls like they were breakable. Right from the root to the bottom, twirling the loose strands around his fingertips. They were silent, neither spoke, the air had almost felt too heavy. Like any words would just dissolve into the atmosphere. Then finally, Louis spoke. Just a whisper.

“You’re so pretty, Harry. D’you know that?”

He couldn’t speak, just wasn’t capable of it. Instead he’d looked at Louis, blinking his eyes like he couldn’t quite believe it was Louis who had said that.

“You’re so... pretty.” He repeated it again. “It’s not fair. Why’re you so fucking...hot?”

Hot. Harry didn’t know where to go from here, Louis was calling him _hot_ and they were lying next to each other in bed and Harry thought he might implode. His tone was almost angry, it was hushed and whispered but there was something in the way he said it that almost put Harry on edge. Like he really wanted to know the answer.

Louis’ hand had slid from Harry’s hair, fingers dragging slowly across his face, dancing over his cheekbones before coming to rest against his lips. He left them there, just for a moment, lingering. And then he’d pulled them away. “I’m sorry. I, I don’t--”

Now it was Harry who spoke, shaking his head, looking up at Louis. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry. Lou--” He couldn’t breathe. It was so much all at once and Harry couldn’t handle it. “Will you just… will you just-”

He was inching towards Louis, closing what little space was left between them. He had his hand on Louis’ neck, stroking over his jaw. Moving up to cup his cheek. And Louis wasn’t backing down. Harry sure as hell wasn’t either.

“Kiss me.”

It was so quiet Harry might have missed it had it not sounded like screaming inside his head. Harry had thought the words might never come yet here Louis was, telling Harry to kiss him.

Their lips slotted together, perfect like they were made to be a part of each other. They were both slow at first, tentative. Nervous and not wanting to move too fast, wary of every move they made. It was like nothing Harry had ever felt before, Louis’ lips were sweet from the hot chocolate and so soft and smooth he almost felt light-headed with it. Their pace quickened, hungry for it. A slide of Louis’ tongue against the roof of his mouth made Harry shiver and his hands ball into fists against Louis’ back.

The room was freezing but Harry felt nothing but white hot heat all over him. Louis moved them, rolling Harry onto his back and clambering on top of him. The kiss deepened and soon it was all Harry could feel, entire body centering on the place where their lips were moving together. He was squirming by now, hips bucking upwards and toes curling. He wanted more, couldn’t help it. Never satisfied.

“Please.” He’d managed to let out on a breath, gripping at Louis’ hair. “Lou, please. More.”

And then Louis was touching him. His fist curled around him and Harry forgot how to breathe. He moved his hips in time with Louis’ strokes, frantic and messy and so, so desperate. Louis mouthed at his neck, wet and biting as Harry tried to hold in a moan, giving up and letting it spill from his lips. His hands shot to Louis’ shoulders, peeling the gown off him, untying the front and letting it fall down.

“C’mere,” He’d stuttered, placing his hands on Louis’ hips and rolling them over so they were both on their sides. His hand shook as he reached for Louis, wrapping it around his length and kissing at his collarbones when he let out a high pitched whine. They were in perfect time now, both touching each other like their lives depended on it.

Harry can’t remember how long it went on for, seemed like an entire lifetime went by in seconds as Louis brought him closer and closer to the edge. He doesn’t know who came first, thinks maybe they came together. All romantic like.

They’d laughed afterwards. Both hot, sticky messes. Harry had stumbled into the bathroom, legs still shaky and cleaned them both up with wet flannels. They’d laughed, giggling together like they were both in on some huge joke. Harry didn’t know what the punchline was, too overwhelmed and shaky and _happy_ to question it.

“I’m shattered.” Louis had yawned eventually, slipping his dressing gown back on like Harry wasn’t the one that had taken it off. “Gonna head to bed I think.”

“You can stay here if you want?” Harry had been so naive.

Louis had looked at him for a second, pausing before he spoke. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Harry’d furrowed his eyebrows slightly, unsure but still too busy riding the high of what had just happened to question. “Okay. See you in the morning.” He’d grinned at Louis, brushing his curls back from his face. “Sweet dreams.”

Louis’d looked like he was biting back a smile. “Yeah. Sweet dreams, Haz.”

 

_sounds like something that i used to feel, but i can’t touch what i see._

 

_UAN Tour - 2012._

They shouldn’t have made a habit out of it. Any sensible person would know that. But Harry wasn’t sensible, he was young, and he was dumb and god, he was head over heels in love.

For months they pretended that nothing had happened that night. They’d gone back to just being Harry and Louis, bandmates, friends, flatmates. Neither of them spoke about it. There was just this unbearable tension, physical almost. Harry’s body would practically vibrate with how badly he wanted Louis the way he had him that night.

It was inevitable that it would happen again, like a wave that kept building, growing and growing until it eventually had to break, shattering the sand beneath it on the shore. The second time it had happened had been an accident really. They were on tour, Harry was horny and lonely and his hotel bed was too big for him. He had texted Louis earlier, innocent intentions. Wanting some company and someone to hang out with whilst the other boys went out partying.

He hadn’t gotten a response and boredom and hormones had gotten the better of him. He’d idly slid a hand into his pants, letting his eyes fall shut and his body get the better of him. Of course, that was when Louis had chosen to knock on the door.

He shouldn’t have answered, should have pretended he was asleep and finished himself off when Louis gave up and went back to his own room. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. He’d opened the door, stood there in a pair of boxers, hard. His pupils must have been blown and his lips red and swollen from where he’d been biting down on them.

Louis had reacted almost instantly. He watched the way his eyes had dropped down Harry’s body, his mouth opening like he couldn’t help it. “ _God_.”

He’d stumbled in and Harry shut the door behind them, they didn’t speak as Harry took off Louis’ clothes, leading him to the bed. They didn’t speak as they fucked either, just murmured “ _this okay’s_?” and hushed “ _please, more, harder’s._ ”

They fell into a routine. Harry would text Louis late at night and he’d show up at his hotel room door, they didn’t need to speak. Didn’t need to say anything because they both knew. The night time was their time. Under the cover of the moon and the stars they could do what they wanted, they could press into each other and kiss each others skin. Call out each others names when there was nobody there to hear it in the early hours of the night. And then once the sun came up, once the harsh rays shone their way through the windows, time was up. Like nocturnal creatures that only thrive under a blanket of darkness, Louis would slip back into his room and Harry would try to trace the ghost of fingerprints Louis had left on his skin.

There had been one night where everything was different. They were on tour somewhere, some hotel Harry can’t remember. Things were different because Eleanor was there. She wouldn’t usually come on tour with them, busy with university and her normal life back at home. But she’d found time, and she was here. And it had made Harry’s stomach jolt every time he had to make conversation with her, act like everything was alright. The lethal mix of guilt and jealousy that washed over him every time he saw her and Louis together was almost too much.

That night, it was late. Harry was wandering the corridors, couldn’t sleep. Ears still ringing from the show. And he’d heard them, as he’d stumbled past Louis’ room. He’d heard Louis and Eleanor, together. A languid moan that must have escaped from Louis’ lips. Harry had frozen. Went cold. It had made him shiver, such a physical reminder that Louis wasn’t his. That he was someone else’s. That everything they were doing was wrong, that it was dirty and bad.

He felt like he had swallowed his own stomach, like he wasn’t himself but instead an outsider looking down at him. God, _fuck_. He needed to leave. He needed to get out. He’d headed straight down the corridor, into the lift and got out at the hotel lobby.

He was still in his stage clothes and probably needed a jacket but he was too dazed to think straight. His legs worked of their own accord and he’d stumbled into the city, heading for the bay. He’d sat on the dock, legs folded under him and cried, tears falling from his face and mixing with the salty ocean water below him. Jesus.

Maybe that had been the catalyst, that one night jolting Harry’s conscious. He’d moved out of his and Louis’ apartment. Saw that as a first step. He was still head over fucking heels, that much was obvious. But if they stopped living like a married couple, maybe they would stop acting like it too.

 

_we're not who we used to be. we're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me._

 

_London - 2013._

When they weren’t on tour, Harry didn’t see Louis for months. Thought of it like a detox. Needed to get Louis out of his system.

He filled up the Louis sized space inside him with other people. He’d go to bars, to clubs, drink too much and fling himself at anyone who’d give him the time of day. He slept with girls, he slept with guys. But none of them are anything compared to what he had with Louis. Always empty, like he’s on the edge of something but never quite got there.

And it’s not like the sex was bad. The sex was great, Harry had a lot of great sex. But it was never Louis. It was never burning hot, scalding his skin and leaving him scarred. And he’d always be fucking _thinking_ about him too. He’d be in the middle of a mind-blowing fuck and the only thing on his brain would be Louis Tomlinson. Someone would curl their fingers inside of him and all Harry would think about is how Louis’ could curl them further.

The next time he saw Louis was at a party. It threw him completely off guard because he wasn’t expecting it. It wasn’t Louis’ usual scene, too full of people he’d have probably called pricks. He remembers noticing him from across the room.

He was surrounded by a group of people Harry didn’t know and that was so strange to him. Not even a year ago they had all the same friends, spent all their time with each other and now it was just this.

“Louis’ over there.” He’d muttered to Nick, gesturing with a nod to the other side of the room.

“No way.” Nick’d grinned, sipping his drink through a straw. “Gonna go say hi?”

“I dunno.” Harry murmured, brushing his hair back. “Should I?”

“You are literally in the same band.” Nick’d scoffed. “Don’t be weird. He’s still your mate.”

Harry’d told Nick everything, months ago. He’d just let it all out, spilling his guts and crying into his lap. Nick had been great, always was. Gave him a shoulder to cry on and an alcohol cupboard to raid and told his own tragic tales of unrequited love.

“I don’t even know who he’s with.”

“So?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “You’ve just been a bit distant these last few months. It happens. Tour’s gonna be even more awkward if you just flat out ignore him.”

Harry’d taken a swig of his drink, hoping for some liquid confidence. “Fine. Come and intercept if it looks like I’m dying.”

Nick’d winked at him. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

He’d wandered over to Louis in a blur, barely registering getting from Nick to being stood in front of him. Louis didn’t even notice him at first, and that hurt. So preoccupied with his friends and the people around him that he didn’t notice Harry, stood there, alone.

He cleared his throat, wondered if he still had time to turn on his heels and leave. He didn’t. Louis noticed.

“Hey.” Harry spoke first. Nodding his head. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Louis shrugged. “Dunno. Yeah.”

Harry waited for an introduction, for Louis to point out his friends, tell Harry their names, tell them his. He didn’t.

“Er, I’m here with Nick and a couple other people.” Harry tried. “I just noticed you over here, thought I’d say hi.”

“Ah cool,” Louis nodded. “Sick. How’s Nick?”

This is so weird. Harry thought. He never thought he’d have to make awkward small talk with Louis. Always thought words would flow right out of their mouths, not a second thought. “Nick’s good.” He nodded. “He’s good.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, admitting defeat. “Anyway. Just thought I’d say hi. I’ll see you in a few weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis nodded lifting a beer bottle to his lips. “See you then.”

 

_fridge light washes this room white, moon dances over your good side. this was all we used to need._

 

_Take Me Home tour - 2013._

They were tipsy. One too many bottles downed after a high energy show. Skin tingling with the buzz of the night and the lights and the camera flashes from the crowd.

They were somewhere in America, some hotel room that might have been lonely but it wasn’t because Louis was there. Harry didn't know where the rest of the boys were, didn’t care. Louis was with him and that was all that was important.

They’d been avoiding each other all week, awkward encounter at the party leaving them a little dazed, unsure how to proceed. Somehow they’d both ended up back in Harry’s room, talking about nothing but at least it wasn’t stilted. He had Louis’ complete attention, all of his focus set on him and for the first time in a long time Harry felt like he could breathe.

Louis was sprawled on the bed, soft white sheets splayed underneath him. An early midnight breeze snuck in from the open window, nudged a hair out of place and Harry had watched as he combed it back with delicate fingers. Louis used to be tan, a golden boy. But in the light of the night the moon fell over him and turned him porcelain. And he _was_ like china, handle him too haphazardly and he’d shatter into a million pieces. Sharp and cutting, slashing into Harry’s skin and leaving him reeling.

“What you standing there for?” Louis’d asked him from the bed, gesturing at him loosely in a drunken daze.

“What’d’you mean?” He’d replied, willing the words out of his lips.

“Jus’ standin’ there.” Louis stretched out on the bed, arms like an open invitation Harry wasn’t sure if he should take. “Standin’ there like a knob.”

That’d made Harry laugh, Louis’ slurred speech and hooded eyes and the way he was looking at Harry with something that someone else might have mistaken for love. He’d given in, letting his shoulders fall and his feet carry him towards the bed. Everything dark and blurred apart from the cool white glow of Louis’ skin. He’d flopped onto the bed, lay on his side as Louis was next to him on his back.

He had a perfect view of him like this, the softness of the skin on his face and how it pulled taut over his collarbones. The white shirt they snuck out from underneath and how his stomach lifted just slightly with every breath. It was quiet, enough that Harry could hear the static from the plug sockets and the gentle whir of air conditioning. Louis was looking up at him, unabashed and unafraid. Taking in his features like he was studying a page. Harry would have felt overwhelmed under his gaze if he wasn’t so completely enamoured by the boy and his undivided attention.

“What d’you want?” Harry had whispered, as soft as he could muster like he didn’t want to break the silence with the sound of his voice.

Louis didn’t answer, not at first. Just looked at him. Reached out with a shaky hand and tucked a loose curl behind Harry’s ear. “Just this.”

Harry’d swallowed. “Just what?” He’d wrapped his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him closer.

“You. This. Isn’t this enough?”

Harry had felt like screaming. No. It isn’t. Maybe for you, but it won’t ever be for me. “But I want you.” He’d told him, close enough that he could feel Louis’ breath. _Why don’t you want me._

“Then have me, Harry.” Louis’d kissed at his neck, making Harry whine. “Like we always do.”

He was mouthing at Harry’s jaw and he knew exactly what he meant. Like we always do. A quick, hot, fuck that would be too much but never enough. Harry could have him for the night, could pretend it meant something until the morning when Louis would be Louis again and Harry would just be Harry. Empty and aching and alone.

Back then it had been worth it. Back then Harry was willing to wake up with nobody next to him, to half smile and nod at Louis in the hallway like he wasn’t breathlessly panting his name the night before. It was never enough but it had almost been good enough. A little love, better than none.

 

_tongue tied like we’ve never known, telling those stories we already told, ‘cos we don’t say what we really mean._

 

_WWA Tour, 2014._

“Me and El broke up.”

Harry blinked. Staring at Louis, taking him in. He had searched his face for the right response but it was nothing but a blank slate. He’d swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. “Okay?”

Louis had laughed. It wasn’t a kind laugh, Harry could hear the bitterness behind it and he had wanted to pull it out of him. “Okay?” Louis’d replied, questioning.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” And he hadn’t. He had no fucking clue.

Louis’d laughed again, longer this time, not looking Harry in the eye. “I don’t want you to say anything. I’m just telling you. That’s what normal people do, innit?”

“Right.” Harry wanted to kiss him. How fucking ridiculous. Everything Harry had ever felt for Louis was nothing but a contradiction and stood here on the balcony with him, that had never been more evident. “Why?”

Louis’d pulled a cigarette from a pack in his pocket, lighting it and taking a drag. He blew the smoke out through his nose, tapping off the ash from the end before speaking again. “We never fucking saw each other. We’re different people. We’ve got nothing in common anymore.”

Harry’d nodded, no idea what to say next. “Was it you or her?”

“Mutual.” Louis replied. There was silence after that, the two of them stood on the hotel balcony, dusk creeping up on them and a warm breeze sticking to their skin. “Want a fag?” Louis asked, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes.

Harry didn’t smoke, but nodded anyway, taking one straight from Louis’ hand. And that was a metaphor if he’d ever seen one, eating right out of Louis’ palm. Even if it might kill him. They were quiet. Neither of them spoke, just inhaled the smoke and blew it back out again.

Harry wishes he could put a finger on when they got this way. Wishes he could pinpoint the moment where they didn’t know how to speak to each other any more. How they went from attached at the hip, apple of each other’s eyes to what they are now. Two strangers stood on a balcony, trying to play a part that neither have learned the lines for.

Louis finished his cigarette first, flicked the end to the floor. “I’m goin’ inside, then.”

“Okay.” Harry’d replied, looking out over the sleepy city below him. He’d wanted so badly to turn around, grip Louis’ arm and tell him to look him in the eye. Hold him by his shoulders and say listen. Just for once, can we be honest? Can I tell you how I feel? He’d wanted to press their lips together, run his hands through Louis’ hair and speak a thousand words without making a noise.

“I’m sorry, about you and Eleanor.” Is what he said instead.

“It’s okay.” Louis’ hadn’t looked at him. “Shit happens.”

Harry swallowed. “I’m here, like, if you need me. I’m always...here.” He’d almost laughed himself at how feeble it’d sounded.

Louis pressed his lips together. “...Thanks. Er, thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Alright. See you then.”

“Yeah,” Harry’d blinked, taking another drag. “See you.”

Louis nodded, Harry swore he saw the ghost of some other words he wanted to speak push past his lips but there was no sound. And then he was gone. Harry was alone on the balcony again and suddenly the warm air felt cold. His throat was tight and he flicked the half smoked cigarette over the balcony, removing any last traces of Louis. His vision blurred with hot tears and he couldn’t stop them escaping and spilling onto his skin.

He’d thought about this moment for years. The moment where Louis would tell him that he’s single. That he isn’t dating anyone, that he’s free to do what he wants. It had gone nothing like this in Harry’s imagination. In Harry’s mind they’d embraced, Louis whispering into his ear. _It’s you, it was always you, Harry._ They’d pull apart for a kiss and Louis would apologise for not figuring it out sooner. Then they’d go back to Harry’s room, maybe Louis’, and they’d sleep together and it’d be the best it had ever been because Harry would know it didn’t have to be a secret anymore. That it didn’t have to be wrong anymore. They’d fall asleep in each others arms and Louis would kiss him awake in the morning.

 _God_. It feels laughable now. Harry stood here, alone, just the dark of the night for company and the lingering scent of tobacco on his fingers.

 

_we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat._

 

_L.A, 2015._

Harry remembers exactly where he was when he found out. Exactly where he was when he knew it was over.

The air con in his car was turned up slightly too high and left a chill on his skin as he drove down the highway. A radio station turned down low hummed quietly in the background, some generic pop song Harry couldn’t quite make out.

A red light glistened in front of him and he sat with his head back against the headrest as he waited for it to turn green again. He felt the gentle buzz of his phone in his pocket and scooped it out with his fingers, expecting a text from Jeff with business news.

That’s when everything froze. It’s like the world around him stopped for a moment and the only thing left in front of him was the text message on his phone. It was from Niall, slightly unexpected but nothing unusual, but it was the message himself that made his stomach drop.

**“H, have you heard?? Louis is gonna be a dad !”**

At first he thinks it’s a joke. Some prank that Niall thought would be funny. Maybe he’s talking about a different Louis. Maybe it’s a typo. Maybe he’s reading the context wrong.

Suddenly the light is green and a car behind him is honking it’s horn, urging him to move. In a trance he puts the car in gear, driving down the highway until he finds somewhere he can pull over. His hands are shaking and his mouth is so dry. He can barely touch the right letters on the phone screen as he messages Niall back.

**“What do you mean? Call me”**

Barely a second passes before Harry’s screen lights up with an incoming call from Niall.

He swallows, trying to wet his mouth and give himself the ability to speak before he picks up.

“Hello?” His voice is shaking.

“Harry, mate. You okay?”

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to keep his composure. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. What’s happening with Louis?”

There’s a pause and Harry wants to hang up. Hang up and never find out.

“Ah, you haven’t heard then?”

“No?” He’s trying not to snap at Niall.

“Oh, shit. Sorry mate, I thought you knew.”

“No, Niall. I don’t. I didn’t know anything about it.” He’s trying so hard.

“Um, ...yeah. Louis’ gonna be a dad. Can you believe it? It’s mental.”

Niall sounds so chipper, so genuinely pleased and all Harry feels is sick. Sick to his stomach. “I’ve gotta go. Sorry, I’m driving.”

“Oh, okay.” Niall can tell he isn’t okay. “Call me back when you can, though, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry replies.

“Alright, take care, H.”

“Yeah.” Harry repeats again, “Yeah.”

And then he hangs up. He hangs up the phone and then everything catches up with him. He manages to swing the door of his car open just in time to throw up on the side of the street. Then he sobs. He’s sitting on the side of a highway somewhere in LA, crying his eyes out, fucking _vomiting_ because of a boy he’s been in love with since he was sixteen. A boy that’s never loved him back. A boy that’s given him nothing but false hope and good fucks and god, he’s so fucking _stupid_.

He really thought, after all this time, that they’d have their happy ending. That one day Louis would wake up and realise he loved him back and coming running into his arms. That they’d live happily ever fucking after. Louis doesn’t care. Louis has his own life and now he has his own family. Harry was never his family, never was and never will be and he only has himself to blame for thinking that he might be.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, in his car, door open, crying. Niall calls him plenty more times but he doesn’t pick up. He can’t. He’s cried so much that his eyes are sore and he can’t breathe properly, can’t fucking think properly.

So maybe that’s what makes him do it. What makes him pick up his phone and type in Louis’ number. He doesn’t think twice, doesn’t read over the message or have time to regret it. Just types it out and presses send.

**‘Can’t believe you’re going to be a dad. Wishing you all the happiness. You’re gonna be great, I know it. H x’**

 

_Sheffield. 2015._

It’s their last show. Bittersweet. In every way. They’ve sung their last song, the audience is cheering for the last time and Harry watches the rest of the boys share a hug. He sort of knows it’s coming before it happens.

He’s going to have to hug Louis, on stage, in front of all these people. He remembers the last time their bodies touched, how it’d been hot and desperate and needy. How it’d been so long ago now. He finds himself standing there, sort of frozen, unable to really move.

And then Louis’ in front of him, expectant. Like he’s waiting for it to happen. Harry’s spent enough time around Louis to know it’s up to Harry to make the first move. It almost makes him laugh now, standing on stage in front of all these people. The fact that it’s just a fucking hug, yet they’re still awkward about who’s going to initiate it.

But then it happens, Louis shrugs, looks right at Harry and shrugs all nonchalant, ‘ _oh go on then_.’

Harry can’t help but grin, almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. He walks into Louis’ arms, wraps himself around his tiny frame and it’s strange because Louis feels the same but _god_ , does Harry feel different.

The arena erupts into a cheer as they embrace and Harry really fucking laughs at that, it’s not bitter but he can’t help thinking, _if only they knew the extent of it all_.

They stay there for a few moments, holding each other. Harry’s sort of waiting for that buzz in his stomach, that fluttering of his heart and for his head to feel heavy when they pull apart. But it doesn’t come.

He didn’t think there’d ever be a time where he’d touch Louis and not feel something that took over his entire body, that trapped him, rendered him useless. But they’re hugging and there’s nothing and for the first time in forever Harry doesn’t want there to be anything.

It’s over, it ran it’s course.

How long can you be in love with someone that doesn’t love you back? Harry wonders if maybe a human heart can only take so much, if it can only handle a certain amount of ache before it builds a barrier up for itself. Before it says enough is enough, and blocks the blackness out.

He isn’t angry at Louis, not really. He can’t control how he felt about Harry anymore than Harry could control the way he felt about him.

It wasn’t meant to be.

It’s possible that they missed each other, that their paths were meant to meet in some other timeline, some other universe. Someplace softer than here.

But he’s at peace with it now. He’s hugging Louis and he doesn’t feel anything anymore. The two of them stood here on a stage in front of thousands, coming to terms with the fact that maybe their story just wasn’t written with a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi/fight me on tumblr!! mitchtheguitarist.tumblr.com


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